


Kindness

by anoyo



Series: Author's Favorites [11]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-08
Updated: 2008-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/anoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward comes to the rescue in his patented sarcastic fashion, saving Roy from a meeting with a gentleman who really ought to just pass away and save the world his presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> Day eight of my 25 Days of Christmas. Kouri wanted little slash, and I think this may actually be SLASH FREE WHOOPS? Implied. Maybe. A little. *cough* PG-13 only for language, really. Anything else? Not really. Enjoy! Beta'd by [Zanzou](http://zanzou-chan.livejournal.com). Written for [Kouri](http://kouriarashi.livejournal.com), for her prompt: Roy/Ed, sarcastic rescue (not too slashy). Originally posted [here](http://anoyo.livejournal.com/130229.html).

It was Tuesday. "Tuesday," in the great Amestrian dictionary, was defined by angry, frustrated energy, and demonstrated in the weekly tirade Roy was subjected to. Riza said it was karmic equalization, considering how much frustration he instilled throughout the week, but Roy disagreed. At least his tirades served a purpose, rather than just posturing power to subordinates. So pointless!

Today, too, was the first Tuesday of the month, a day reserved for one man, and one man only: Lieutenant Armand Caterwaul.

Armand Caterwaul had been on his staff for years. He was smart, competent, and damn good at what he did. Adding on that he always kept his mouth shut and his job was balancing Roy's budget, he was completely indispensable. Unfortunately, he was also sixty-five, and when he came to give his monthly balance report, he also gave a wonderfully opinionated tirade on Roy's spending behaviors and how next months was bound to be the month that Roy overspent and broke his team entirely, and hell if Armand would be the one sending off to Main to beg for money.

Amazingly, however, no matter how much Roy spent, and no matter how much he worried about overspending his limit, he always received the same in-the-black report. This led him to believe that Armand was either A) magical or B) he kept secret stashes for whenever Roy really did exceed his limit (an occurrence that correlated with the Fullmetal Alchemist's destruction of yet another building). In the end, Roy decided he really didn't want to know which option it was.

Today, Roy knew, would not be a good rant. Not only had Edward leveled another massive plant and most of the town surrounding it, but his own team had accidentally caved in a four-square-kilometer section of the city's underground water main, a story it pained Roy to remember. It would pain him even more to hear it in terms of budget.

When Riza knocked to tell him Armand had arrived, Roy prepared himself by a quick knock of his head to his desk, then straightened as the bookkeeper walked in.

"Colonel Mustang," the man saluted, mustache only partially muffling his words.

Roy saluted in return, gesturing for at-ease. "Lieutenant Caterwaul," he replied, nodding seriously. "I expect you have a budget report for me?"

Armand nodded, breath woofing through his mustache, causing the finer hairs to blow as in a breeze. "Of course, sir. This month, you spent 87% of your travel budget, 97% of your armament budget, 78% of your legal budget, 92% of your localized repairs budget, 98% of your mission-out budget, and 104% of your district repairs budget. All told, you spent 99% of the budget allotted to you this month."

The mustache wiggled. A wiggling mustache was the signal that Armand was about to begin ranting, telling him how, "back in his day, people took more care with the money they had," and such other things. Roy, really, was just impressed that he hadn't gone over his budget entirely. It solidified his theory that Armand had been stashing money away from the money he was given, simply not reporting it all in order to have a backup fund. And if Roy was honest, he would admit that that was a damn good idea, not letting Roy know just exactly how much his team had to spend. Then, chances were, they'd spend it.

Roy didn't want to be the one calling Main for more funding, either. Major Hepley gave the most impressive tirades Roy had ever heard, and he'd really only gotten them secondhand.

"Now, Colonel Mustang, if you don't mind my boldness," Armand began, as he always began, waiting for Roy's funeral nod, "I really must advice you to be more stringent with the budget. This month we were dangerously close to maxing out what we are allocated, and if we do so, we will be forced to inform Main of this occurrence, and request more funding. And, Colonel Mustang, the request for more funding is a twelve-page document that I am not particularly inclined to fill out." He snuffled, making his mustache wiggle.

Appeasing Armand was always a better choice than letting him think Roy was thumbing him. "Of course, Lieutenant Caterwaul. Such a document would be my own responsibility."

Armand nodded, and old man's slow nod. "When I was younger, we didn't have such extensive funding and you have now," he said, and Roy applauded himself for not groaning aloud. "We didn't have such funding, so we took pains not to need that funding. Instead of leveling a building holding forces we needed to apprehend, we simply went in to collect them."

This signaled the 10% mark of Armand's tirade, and next would come the story of he and his partner, faced with the absolute perils of a band of mountain brigands, holed away in a governor's mansion, a mansion with absolute defenses, and their epic and brilliant use of the land to come in from underneath.

Before Armand had finished taking the deep breath necessary to relate the story, there was a thud, and then a loud scuffing as Roy's door swung open, revealing a scowling blond, hands in pockets.

Edward did not introduce himself, however; that would have been far too polite, and he might have earned himself some not-a-jackass points. Rather, he said, proof that he had overheard Armand's speaking and was unrepentant, "And instead of leveling the building, you leveled handfuls of men. I mean, sure, it did wonders for the budget, people spring up from all over for free. Easily replaceable." His golden eyes flickered as a smile wound its way around his mouth. Charming, and handsome, and more than a little insulting.

"A man's life is not measured by gold," Armand said, voice deepening, in something Roy recognized as his You Cocky Whippersnapper voice.

But Edward butted in again, with, "No, it's not, is it? So which would we rather lose, a new grand mansion for the main office, or the twenty men it would have taken to apprehend the bastard making alchemic poisons who'd holed himself away in a tenement house." He smiled charmingly, using his sheer physical appeal to his benefit, perhaps one of his only age-appropriate skills. "There was no one else living in the tenement, and it was an eyesore, anyway. Molded, decayed, probably diseased. And, really, the repairs to the hat shop next door shouldn't be too horrible. Filing for money for the tenement house at all was just because the mayor is an ass, and probably using those poisons himself." His eyes moved to Roy. "Probably."

The mustache woofed, then stopped, then woofed again. Armand had nothing to say; Roy was so grateful he could have danced. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "Lieutenant Caterwaul, this is the Major Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. It's him we have to blame for a good 90% of our repair expenses." He smiled as Edward fumed and Armand's mustache woofed -- if he wasn't mistaken -- in amusement. "And unfortunately, Lieutenant, his barging in means that he has completed the mission I've sent him on, and I need to be briefed."

Another woof of the mustache before Armand said, "Of course. You've received my budget report, Colonel Mustang. I will report again the same time next month."

"Thank you," Roy said, saluting appropriately for Armand to salute back. "And apologies for Major Elric's impolite intrusion on our discussion. He's not quite old enough to understand common courtesy, you see."

"Indeed I do," Armand replied, mustache twitching as he probably smiled beneath it. "Good day."

As soon as the door closed on the bookkeeper, Roy turned his attentions to Edward, smirking. "What wonderful timing."

Edward flung himself on the sofa, as he always did. "Yeah, yeah. Do you want my report or not?"

Roy gestured widely. "The floor is yours."

The story was retold, mainly what Edward had already told him while Armand was there, but with a few added details, such as the fact that someone would need to find real proof that the mayor had been dealing with the poison-making alchemist, because he hadn't been allowed inside the building, and he'd been busy enough trying not to get poisoned. As he wrapped up, a long process made longer by Roy's interspersed jabs about his height, demeanor, and all-around appearance, Edward stood and stretched.

"Now, Mustang, I need a nap. Can't sleep worth shit on trains," he said, cussing more colorfully than usual for his lack of sleep.

Roy laughed, and said, "Of course. Go sleep, I'm sure there's a couch somewhere that could fit you."

Predictably, Edward flailed, and yelled, and flounced himself toward the door. Just before he opened it, however, Roy stopped him.

Clearing his throat, Roy said, almost grudgingly. "Also, thanks."

"For almost getting poisoned?" Edward asked, turning to give Roy a look that might have meant, "What on earth is wrong with you, you know, more than the obvious?"

Roy shook his head in response. "No, no. For earlier."

A pause. "How much earlier?" Edward asked, still giving Roy a look. "For making dumb mistakes and becoming your lapdog? There are a lot of 'earliers.'"

"Just now, I mean," Roy said, letting himself smile a little at Edward's thickness.

"I didn't make any dumb mistakes just now," Edward said.

And then it was Roy's turn to pause. "You have no idea what I'm talking about," he said, not a question, a flat statement.

"You're thanking me for that?" Edward asked, temper rising in his eyes, causing Roy to start laughing.

Holding his chest, still laughing, Roy offered, "No," and nothing else.

Nothing else, really, as Edward waited for a response, as long as his patience, thin as it was, would let him. "You make no damn sense, Mustang," Edward said finally, turning to leave and pulling the door open roughly.

Roy continued laughing, waving Edward out, amused at both the younger man and himself for making the call that Edward had done it on purpose.

Just before Edward stepped fully out, he said, from the doorway, "You're welcome," then walked away, knocking the door shut behind him with a boot.

All Roy could do was laugh.


End file.
